What Should Have Been
by SwedishKiss
Summary: This is my take on what the writers did wrong in Season 5. There were potentially brilliant moments, but, clearly, any writers responsible for said moments were immediately killed off by the other writers (you know...the ones who'd never seen an episode o
1. Default Chapter

Author's Note: I'm undergoing a massive project here, and the most important thing you, the reader, should know is that I need all the help I can get. I am a die-hard Creeker. From start to finish, I intend to own the entire series on DVD, and track down all of those obscure snippets of songs, but…the bottom line is Seasons 5 and 6 had moments of unforgivable suckage. Regardless of the relationship you were cheering for in the end, the methods the writers used for those ends to be achieved were occasionally horrendous. Hence, I am re-writing 5 and 6, with Kevin Williamson's ending in mind. Some things must happen, like Mitch's death (although death by ice cream was weak), but I need your input on the main issues. Should Season 5 be geared toward the rekindling of Dawson and Joey (as an official item for an entire year like we were hoping for in Season 2), or should Season 5 be about a mature Dawson-Jen relationship, not just a Dawson-and-Jen-get-it-on-because-they-need-comfort relationship? And Pacey and Audrey? Any thoughts? I was hoping for an actual connection between the two, if it is decided they will date. Will the Pacey and Joey history be swept under the rug until two episodes in Season 6? No. Do I think that Pacey and Audrey should be all about sex until Audrey decides to become Second-Season Jen? No. If Pacey has a relationship other than one with Joey, I want it to be genuine. What about Eddie? Creepy, pervy Prof Wilder? Bring on the ideas! FYI: I am a P/Jer. I have been a P/Jer since Season One, BUT...this re-write is not about smearing Dawson and Joey. If Dawson is so important to Joey, I want the audience to have a reason to love Dawson just as much as she does. We have been told from day one that Dawson is Joey's best friend. I'd like Dawson to be given a chance to prove that Joey's praises are deserved.

Disclaimer: Dawson's Creek is the property of Kevin Williamson, Columbia TriStar, the WB and all of his other affiliates.

Easier Reading: The lines in italics represent a voiceover. This voiceover is Joey.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this to Abigail Snow, who believes that I am brilliant. Your encouragement means the world to me. You Rock!

**EPISODE ONE**:

_**EVOLUTIONS**_

Joey Potter rested comfortably on her stomach in the very position she had been occupying for the past seventeen years. She studied her surroundings. This room had provided her with more solace than any other place in the world. Her best friend, Dawson Leery, sat beside her on the bed, occasionally throwing glances her way. His focus…her lips. Lips which she had recently allowed him to kiss. The walls, decorated with black-and-white photographs of her group of friends and a symbolic John Lennon poster, seemed as jumbled as her thoughts.

Once upon a time, his kiss would have meant a terrifying leap of faith. Now, after a turbulent romance with Dawson's best friend, a long-anticipated graduation from Capeside High, and the impending farewell to childhood, Joey realized that she had failed to escape the Vortex of Sameness that was her life. Would moving forward with Dawson ever really mean moving forward?

"_This_ is your solution Dawson? _This_ is your only conceivable means of tackling the…the…herd of elephants in the room?" Joey shrieked, gesticulating so wildly, she nearly tumbled off the bed.

"Herd, Jo?" Dawson's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

"Do elephants flock?" Joey hadn't meant to snap at him, but his sudden capacity for being daft seemed so unfortunately timed.

"The monumental milestone you have now reached in your young life was inevitably destined to decimate my metaphorical prowess. Besides, what is more gargantuan of stature than an elephant? Logic dictates the correct response would be multiple elephants." Her tone was placating, she hoped. Gentle explanations were the best course of action when attempting to control any discussion with her best friend.

"When did these multiple elephants decide that invading my room would be a pragmatic endeavor?" Clearly his humor had returned. Joey resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief. Dawson's life-long ambitions of conquering Hollywood were scheduled to begin in two day's time, and he had yet to open a suitcase.

"Probably about same time you decided watching E.T. in lieu of packing for the day after tomorrow would be a pragmatic endeavor. I suppose I've been laboring under the misapprehension that the Hollywood-bound disdain procrastination. Whatever happened to the never-let-anything-rest Dawson of Yore?"

"Yore Dawson has concluded that touching a suitcase symbolizes his favorite Boston-bound brunette's decision to row her life in a direction that no longer leads to his dock. Elephants and our current, Speilbergian stroll down Memory Lane aside, Jo, we're sharing a milestone here. Little Joey Potter's final moments in Capeside. As such, your adoring fans are clamoring to know…is there life for a certain Potter sister after Dawson Leery?" His eyes bore accusingly into hers, and she steeled her resolve to keep from flinching (outwardly at least). Their co-dependency upon subtext was particularly suffocating at moments like these.

His fear that she would once again transform herself into Pacey Witter's girlfriend the instant his plane landed in California was excruciatingly evident. Instead of bearing her wounded soul to him (Pacey had abandoned her without a word after all), she held him to her, soothing him with a whispered, "Said adoring fans can rest assured that any life devoid of Dawson Leery will never be part of my future. You've always given me a dock to row home to, no matter the respective directions our lives have taken. The only reason I've been able to row my girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-creek-self anywhere but mediocrity was you, Dawson Leery."

"Was that the message behind the kiss we've been neglecting to mention?" His entire form tensed. Joey's stomach plummeted to her toes. And here they were again. The meaning behind the kiss. She'd arrived once again at De ja Screwed.

She cradled his stubbled cheek in her hands, lifting his face to her's. "We don't have to deconstruct everything right now, Dawson. Even Freud would have respected the need for opening credits."

Jen walked along the docks, marveling at the early-evening hustle and bustle. This certainly paled in comparison to New York, but, as Drue Valentine had advised her not so long ago, Boston certainly was an "up and coming town."

And then, like a cheesy teen romance flick, there he was! Pacey (clad in his patented Hawaiian shirt) bounding down the gangplank, luggage in tow. He unceremoniously dropped his burden, swept her into his arms, and twirled her haphazardly about. Placing her once more on solid ground, he met her merry gaze.

"The lovely Miss Lindley! At long last! My mail-order slave has arrived." Dramatically, he placed the luggage in her hands.

"Refrain from waving a Confederate flag and reminding me why it is that you and I never achieved couple status, or I will be forced to use MY whip on YOUR sorry hide." Her friendly threats failed to mask the venom in her eyes.

"We tried coupledom as I recall, oh most forgiving and beloved of Jennifers."

"Pace, please keep in mind that beneath the pleasure I derive from your suffering resides a desire to protect you from yourself. NEVER remind a girl of her foray into witchcraft when she's already got a multitude of sins under her belt; one of which shall, I fear, very shortly come back to bite me in the ass. We have to discuss that tiny promise I made to you. That's what this false, masculine bravado you're forcing down my throat is about, isn't it? You're having doubts about whether or not I would fulfill my end of the bargain. Joey does not know that your final port of call is within walking distance of Worthington."

Casually, he draped an arm over her shoulders, smirking slightly as the tension in her jaw gradually melted. "Lindley, you of all people should understand why it is difficult for me to have much faith in humanity these days. That isn't to say you are not one of the only good people in my universe right now."

"No, Pace! I'm not good people. For all my delusions of evolving, I'm still that girl who spilled the beans to Dawson about you and Joey. Not to mention the one who sent Andie spiraling down the ecstacy-enduced path to…" His jaw clenched instantly, blood boiling, eyes brimming with as yet unshed tears at the mere mention of one of the most horrible moments in his life. Jen trembled violently, waiting for his expected verbal assault upon her unintentional callousness. The highly-anticipated assault never befell her; however. Not that she expected anything less from Pacey. Dawson had idealism, idealism in spades, but Pacey had that rare kind of class which demanded admiration. Assured that she had passed the marginally hellish portion of their discourse, she forged ahead with the necessary unpleasantries.

"I had qualms about participating in your master plan to keep Joey in the dark about your location, but I agreed because…"

"Dawson." There it was again. That ever-present gnawing in his gut, which inexplicably manifested itself whenever his former best-friend's name had the potential to arise in polite conversation. He wasn't completely certain about how long this gut-gnawing had been a factor in his life, but his subconscious seemed determine to convince him that it had appeared long before Joey had chosen him over Dawson.

"You agreed because of Dawson and his impending farewell to Capeside. Heaven forbid that if Joey knew where I was she might be a smidgeon less enraptured by s I-finally-achieved-my-dreams monologues! Betty and Veronica are defined by their codependence on Archie, while Jughead lounges in the background stuffing his face and patiently awaiting the opportune moment to insert a quip in the fray."

"You're so much more to ALL of us than a ravenous sub-character, Pacey. Of course, your ensemble does scream "Jughead." I refuse to let you continue to classify yourself as the despised underdog when you still mean everything to her. She wants you to have all the happiness that you deserve. Joey worries about you all the time, but she won't know that her worries are unfounded until you show her, IN PERSON, that you are okay," Jen snarled with a finality that somehow alarmed him

Jen had accepted the Joey Situation before he had realized that Joey could someday become a Situation. She had been his confidant, his encouragement, but she'd never made him feel that he and Joey were a lost cause before. Seeing Joey would confirm what he had known since their summer together aboard the True Love. She had wasted her time and her affections on him. He had fulfilled all of Dawson's prophecies for their relationship. And now, after everything he had gained and lost since Junior Year, Jen, the only person he had been able to depend on, was commanding that he officially throw in the towel and give Joey closure.

"I'll consider giving in to those feminine wiles, Lindley, as long as you promise me that you will cease referring to yourself as the girl who messes up everyone else's life. You're a far, far better leading lady and permanent member of the inner circle than all of the Abby Morgans and other instigators who have graced Capeside with their presence." Grinning broadly, Jen took half of his luggage, and, side-by-side, they left Pacey's summer job behind.

Jack was sorting boxes when Grams entered, gasping for breath. Clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she collapsed against the front door.

"I don't know why I let you children talk me into this. I should never have listened to Jennifer. I should have moved into the retirement community when I had the chance. After attempting to familiarize myself with this neighborhood, the prospect of BINGO Night certainly seems appealing." Jack abandoned his task and went to offer her a shoulder to lean on.

"We researched the area thoroughly Grams. All of us together, remember? We've found the street with the church two blocks away and the children playing in the front yards and the neighbors peering over each others' fence," Jack calmly reminded her, but he couldn't resist a little teasing to lighten the mood. "A chance sighting of a single skinhead with triple sixes tattooed all over his body shouldn't shake your resolve."

"There were no "skinheads," Dear Boy," Grams hissed back, completely appalled by the notion. "I discovered an adult video store."

"Well," Jack couldn't resist a snort, "that certainly wasn't in the realtor's brochure."

"They just don't make pictures like they used to. I supposed "adult" would entail stimulation for the mind, not a gratuitous display of the human form. I am no longer incapable of using the term penis, particularly in a medical context, but no medical expert could possibly condone the content of that… FILTH." Jack would have given anything for Jen to have been present for this conversation. Grams may have become capable of "using the term penis," but it was a priceless moment every time she did.

"Medicine has advanced since your days as a nurse, Grams." He winked coyly at his distraught companion.

"Has it advanced so much that we are expected to embrace the concept that nude contortionists are some sort of miracle?" Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways, Grams." Jack gave her a quick peck on the cheek before returning to sorting the boxes.

Mitch was sitting on the couch in the living room, Lily resting against his chest, when Gale wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What are you thinking, Mitch?" He had that faraway look in his eyes again, which meant he was either thinking about Dawson or concocting another far-fetched scheme to "enhance" the appeal of their restaurant. If the latter were the case, she sincerely hoped it would be more ingenious than his attempt to make bubble gum on the kitchen stove.

"Do you think it will be easier the second time around?" Mitch abruptly snapped out of his reverie.

Gale joined him on the couch. "Sending one of our babies out into the world?" Mitch kissed Lily on the nose, as Gale's eyes began to water. "Not even a little bit."

"I've been sitting her for two hours, and I can't seem to convince myself to want this to be simple."

"You always did complicate matters." Gale placed a reassuring hand atop his knee.

"Our son will never truly feel like he belongs in our home anymore. From now on, any parental advice we give him may be something he has already realized on his own. Yet, feeling completely detached from my son's life has probably been one of my better experiences."

"It just means we've done right enough by Dawson for him to be able detach, Mitch."

"I think I'd feel better if he didn't want to detach all the way to California." The admittance was hesitant, but Gale was pleased that beneath the philosophical, Father-Knows-Best speech, he was honest about how much Dawson's leaving hurt.

They were still there, together on his bed. Exactly where they had been for what, at times, felt like forever. She shifted slightly to face him. Beside her, Dawson turned simultaneously, as if he had instinctively known that something was bothering her.

"Dawson, have you ever been concerned by the amount of time you and I spend in bed together?"

"Concerned two teens in their sexual prime actually take advantage of the chance to share a bed…platonically? We'd probably spend an equivalent amount of time on the floor if we didn't each have a subconscious need for pillows." He nudged her playfully in the ribs.

"Dawson, I don't think you comprehend exactly what it is we are doing here." Joey chewed self-consciously on her bottom lip. Suppose, if only for a moment, that one day he would understand the meaning behind her words? Suppose that hell froze over and he would be able to read between the lines.

"Joey, you and I have already proven that we are the ideal teenaged-duo. Just for tonight, let's shelve any concern about how other soul mates interact and focus on us. We have stopped time. We are simply Dawson and Joey, watching E.T., Spielberg's homage to best friends and a cinematic representation of the way I feel about you. That's why I want you to stay here, Jo. Stay with me? I can't go to sleep unless I know that you…" His pleading warmed her heart. They hadn't had a tranquil, hormone-less sleep-over in years.

Tenderly, she took his hand in hers. "Dawson, I'll be right here."

Jen, Jack and Grams huddled around the table, staring solemnly around the sparsely-furnished kitchen. In fact, the table was the lone piece of furniture in the room.

"Jackers, the next time I make any disparaging remark regarding knitting, accidental or otherwise, remind me of that time I reduced my two favorite people in the entire world to creating furniture and entertainment from boxes."

"That's enough, Child! You have reduced Jack and me to nothing. If anything, you have helped us to soar."

"There's a gas leak, isn't there?" Jack conspiratorially whispered. "Unbeknownst to us all we are, even as we speak, inhaling noxious fumes, and before you know it we'll all be clasping hands and singing Kumbiyah."

Jen assumed her typical preparing-to-do-battle-with-Grams stance and remarked slyly, "God help us all if you've designated me the wind beneath your wings, Grams."

"God has helped us indeed," Grams proclaimed with the passionate conviction that never ceased to amaze. "Jenniffah, I have never been more proud of you than in the moment when you convinced me to sell the house. You were the poised, beautiful, elegant, confident, intelligent young woman who I have always seen in you, but who you have always blinded yourself to. Will I miss the person I was in Capeside? Certainly. Do I regret for even an instant the opportunity to reinvent myself along with my two favorite people in the entire world? Of course not."

"And Jack," she ruffled his hair adoringly. "I don't want you to silently stew over your preposterous theories about sending Jennifer down this path to robbing me of my home in Capeside. What you did for me by pushing my Jennifer into the collegiate masses means more to me than you will ever know."

They promptly rose from their boxes and raced to embrace Grams, who declared exuberantly, "Now that that's all settled; who's interested in singing a rousing round of Kumbiyah?"

Sunlight filtered through the window, causing Joey to stir. Dawson (duffle bag slung over his shoulder) studied his slumbering best friend. He brushed the stray tendrils of hair from her eyes, gently kissing her cheek, and, with a final, longing look at Joey, he departed through the window. He was in the process of dismounting from the bottom rung of the ladder when Joey finally rose. Noticing his absence, she wandered toward the open window. Smiling nostalgically, she spied Dawson (duffle bag still over his shoulder) running in the direction of her boat. Joey returned to bed, and nestled beneath the sheets on Dawson's side. She lay on her back, staring intently at the ceiling, just as Dawson had ever since the first time she spent the night.

_I spend a vast majority of my time wondering if it ever gets any easier, this thing called evolution. This horrendous nightmare we call change._

Mitch and Gale huddled together on the couch, Lily on Mitch's lap, with photos of Dawson spread out between them.

_Charles Darwin has implied that humans originated from monkeys and apes. If this were the case, why do the monkeys and apes exist alongside their "evolved" forms? That terrified version of me who spent fifteen years believing that Dawson Leery, my best friend from across the creek, was the love of my life, and that the sun rose and set on his shoulders, she still exists. She was thriving today when that boy potentially walked out of my life forever._

Dawson (duffle bag still over his shoulder) stood before the "Potter B & B" sign.

_Are the memories of our days on the creek powerful enough to bind us together, despite the distance? Has the impact we've had on each others' lives thus far been as lasting as we currently claim? _

Grams, Jack, and Jen clasp hands during their "rousing round of Kumbiyah."

_That terrified version of me plagues my mind, but my heart; my heart is becoming steadfast. My heart is the truly "evolved" form in this scenario. Split between the innocent adoration of a dreamer who has molded me and the fondness of a sea creature from the deep who…My heart must prepare for that resounding yes or no to the affections of both. _

Pacey perched gloomily on the edge of the dock, book in hand. Jen had dropped him and his belongings off at "suitable lodgings for the seafaring sort," but he couldn't bear to remain after convincing himself that she was well on her way back to Grams and Jack. Instinctively, his feet led him back to his summer-quarters on the yacht. The captain and his fellow crewmen had nodded their heads knowingly in his direction, but had remained silent about his decision to avoid being a "landlubber" for a little bit longer.

Sullenly, he perused the dog-eared pages. The volume had become tattered by numerous adventures over the course of his days aboard the True Love. Gingerly, he traced his thumb across the title "The Little Mermaid," allowing himself, for the first time since graduation, to become consumed by memories of her.


	2. Breathing Analysis

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. Kevin Williamson and whoever he has chosen to do business with over the years own everything. If I had any say at all Season 5 would have been radically different.

**EPISODE TWO:**

_**BREATHING ANALYSIS**_

Joey Potter strode jauntily across the Worthington Campus, eyes sparkling as they scanned the all-to-familiar handwriting on the manila envelope. 'To: Little Joey Potter, care of Worthington College, From: Dawson Leery, Las Angeles, California.'

Following an eternity of soul-searching that could only be described as an emotional rollercoaster, her best friend, and self-proclaimed soul mate, had achieved his dream. He had been begged by his first-choice film school, USC, to attend the most prestigious Summer Film Program in the entire country. And, here, clasped firmly in her now-clammy hands, was the result of his summer thousands of miles away from her.

Since their memorable introduction at the tender age of five, they had been virtually joined at the hip. If she allowed herself to be perfectly honest about what a few years before would have been without a doubt the most soul-crushingly, heart-breakingly ordeal imaginable, she had survived, admirably, and even managed a smile and a laugh or two along the way. For in those secret moments where she hadn't been concerned about the progression of Dawson's film, or the enticing female leads he might have fallen prey to, her thoughts never failed to drift to Pacey, her good mood pill.

As she neared the decidedly non-descript, brick building that housed Worthington's Female-Freshmen population, she spied a ladder situated directly beneath her window. Perched precariously atop the seemingly heaven-sent object was a pot-bellied, balding, profusely-sweating window washer. Angelic Bedroom Eyes in place, 'Little Joey Potter' sashayed toward the ladder. Why not take advantage of one's feminine wiles if the situation warranted? Tradition demanded that any viewing of a Dawson Leery Feature Film follow an ascent to an open window courtesy of just such a ladder as this.

"Good morning, Sir," she addressed the ladder's occupant, curtseying theatrically.

"Morning, Little Lady." That lecherous smile obliterated any previous misgivings she may have entertained about letting him earn his salary in peace.

"Could you do me a huge favor?" She rewarded his apparent interest (if the saliva dripping from his chin was any indication) with a suggestive wink.

"I guarantee that I will do absolutely everything in my power to make all of your wildest fantasies a mind-blowing reality." Valiantly, she resisted the surge of bile rising in her throat.

"For starters, you can concentrate on what is occurring in YOUR pants instead of striving to sweet-talk your way into MINE. And secondly, you can stand aside while I confiscate this here ladder."

His posture straightened immediately, as he resumed washing the nearest window with impressive gusto. "Are you from the Safety Commission, M'am?"

"Not exactly." She suppressed a chuckle as he resumed slouching. "I'm from the Ninth Rung of Hell Ladder Inspection Bureau. We're a non-profit organization sanctioned by the government to, unfortunately, recall this particular model."

In a single swift motion, he descended from his lofty perch. "You're certain that's all you need me to do for you?" He placed a restraining hand on her elbow, leering coyly.

"Absolutely," she kneed him viciously in the groin, sputtering indignantly, "And, unless you want a restraining order hounding your Neanderthal-esque ass, you will join me in my certainty on the topic of you and me not happening…EVER."

Jen stormed into Pacey's quarters, balancing, but just barely, a heaping platter of various breakfast items in one hand, bellowing "Witter," at the top of her lungs. Barreling toward his makeshift bed, consisting of a hammock and a sleeping bag, she viciously elbowed him in the ribs.

Snarling expletives, Pacey lunged from beneath his covers, catapulting the platter and its contents toward the wall on the opposite end of the room in the process.

"Lindley, My Sweet," Pacey lowered his eyes from her livid countenance guiltily. "How ever did you get past Security?" Much to his relief, her piercing gaze momentarily softened.

"Those seafaring fellows you've spent the last three months with seemed particularly eager to engage in high-risk behaviors with Yours Truly."

"All those sexual favors, yet you still made room in your jam-packed schedule to bring me breakfast in bed? Lindley, you are too good to me." He chucked her under the chin affectionately.

"That's what dysfunctional friends do."

"Attempt to poison each other with scrambled eggs and French toast?" Jen's menacing glare materialized yet again in full force. "I thought you made it perfectly clear last week that you had no intention of doing me any more favors."

Jen lounged contemplatively in the hammock beside him. "Not where Dawson and Joey are concerned, Pace."

"And, supposing I poured on the charm, could you find it in your heart to engage in those aforementioned high-risk behaviors with me, instead of guiding this conversation down that path that only ends in heartbreak and angst for all parties involved," satisfied that her anger had subsided, he reclined leisurely.

"That's the thing about paths, Pace. You can take as many detours or implement as many avoidance tactics as you choose, but ultimately, your path leads to confrontation with Dawson. I can't be your detour anymore. Dawson and Joey have had a summer of regression to the days when the world revolved around them, Capeside's Dynamic Duo, the days before I stepped out of that cab, and the days before you became desirable. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end, which means that if Dawson and Joey's era of regression is behind them, as much as it sucks to be you right now, so is your era of hiding out on this boat. Consider your vacation from life officially concluded."

"Dawson Leery has been blessed with years of the world revolving around 'Capeside's Dynamic Duo,' years of the universe and all its components centered on the eternal, intricate bond he shares with Joey. I'm not expecting the world to miraculously change that orbital pattern, but is it too much to ask for a guy to be able to dream that a continent or tiny, uncharted island, could ever begin to acknowledge that Joey and I had something special, or that perchance all good things might just not have to come to an end…right this instant?"

Jen pressed a tender kiss to his temple. "I'm that continent, Pace. I'm cheering for you and Joey wholeheartedly, and I have been for years, but in order for your romance to be rekindled, you've gotta put more logs in that fire by oh I don't know…actually going to see her; just to assure her that you're still very much alive."

"And what if I can't face her, Jen? What happens when I look into those to-die-for, chocolate-brown eyes of hers and my worst fears are realized," Pacey's shoulders sagged, defeated.

"You have no worst fears as far as Joey is concerned."

"I beg to differ, Lindley. Have you ever been told exactly how Joey Potter plans to exterminate you, every gruesome, horrifying, miniscule detail? Something about a screwdriver, as I recall. It wasn't pretty."

"She's always gonna love you Pace. Her love might not fit the textbook definition of a girlfriend, but love like you guys have, that's the stuff of dreams. No gas-station romance novel or low-budget porno will ever hold a candle to it. We should all be so lucky. Dawson, on the other hand, his affection for you has limits, and I'll never grasp that concept of the limits of his affection not being your worst fear. How can you be so flippant about your about the dissolution of more than a decade of friendship? How can you claim so persistently that losing Dawson isn't tearing you apart?"

"Therein lies the rub, Lindley. I could never lose Dawson because he and I never shared anything worth saving. Our entire friendship, if you can call it that, was based on him using my failings and my familial misfortunes to make himself feel superior. Why would my worst fear be the loss of a relationship that made me hate myself?"

Leaping indignantly from the confines of the hammock, Jen rummaged furiously through the closet, tossing all of his Hawaiian shirts into his duffle bag. With an enraged flourish, she dangled the bag menacingly out the window. "I don't want to wait for our lives to be over! Resolve this, or else…my revenge will be immanent, swift, and far less "not pretty" than any threat of death-by-screw-driver Joey Potter could possibly concoct. A.k.a. your Surfer-Dude inspired wardrobe could very well be swimming with the fishes."

Joey gracefully mounted the ladder, years of practice evident in her every movement. Nostalgic tears blurring her vision, beloved envelope clenched in a vice-like grip between her teeth, she nimbly swung her legs over the window sill, stilling abruptly at the grating voice that met her ears. "Potter, I never thought you'd climb back into my life."

Haughtily wiping wayward tears from her cheeks, she venomously confronted the loathsome apparition from the not-too-distant past, "Drue Valentine, may I remind you that you are near an open window and, should I accidentally toss your mangy hide out of it, the distance from here to the ground is considerable."

Rapidly closing the gap between them, Drue boldly kissed her cheek, "Watch your step, Potter. I would hate to be coerced into informing the Dean of Admissions about the sordid family history of the best-and-brightest of this year's Freshmen Class."

"I suppose it would be too much of a stretch to expect honesty from the likes of you should I dare to ask exactly how the hell you found me." Drue merely grinned.

Audrey pranced into the room, swinging fifteen truckloads worth of shopping bags back and forth, inquiring chirpily, "Are you Joey?"

"That depends on whether or not you are this scumbag's latest conquest."

Audrey appraised Drue curiously, tongue darting over her bottom lip, she extended a manicured hand in Joey's direction. "Audrey Liddell, stunningly gorgeous roommate and your future best friend."

Joey snorted derisively, "Joey Potter, teetering on the edge of pre-mature senility and highly doubtful of the later portion of that statement."

"Drue Valentine, Joey Potter's victim and your willing servant, Miss Liddell," Drue gasped hoarsely from his captive state within Joey's murderous headlock.

Audrey delicately disentangled Joey's arms from about Drue's neck, and cooed into his ear, "I might just have to take you up on that offer."

Joey scrambled disgustedly to her feet, "I'm just gonna leave you two misguided individuals to it then. Audrey, it was…an experience making your acquaintance. Drue, you put any part of your body into my half of the room and you will leave it considerably more handicapped than when you entered."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Joey collapsed onto her bed, settling into what-would-have-been Dawson's side were he with her, she granted herself a moment's pondering about Drue Valentine's re-appearance in her life. Opting to dwell on that repulsive turn of events at a later date, she assaulted the coveted manila envelope with trembling fingers, reveling in the glory of the videotape, which made Dawson's dreams a reality. Slipping the tape into her battered VCR, she waited with bated breath as the opening credits appeared on the screen.

Dolefully, Pacey appraised the location of his summer job, one last time. Why had he let Lindley convince him that the time had come to move off the boat and move on with what could only be a horrendously bleak future? The innate knowledge that last summer would be his final trek across the ocean caused his throat to constrict, as his cell phone crackled to life. Grimacing, he studied the number, heaved a sigh, and greeted his ex-best friend with as much false cheer as he could muster, "Hey, Man. How's Hollywood treatin' ya?"

Dawson's languid response prompted him to bristle instinctively. "You know, just your typical, sun-drenched local, chock full of booze, babes and famous folks." Leave it to Dawson to get that last dig in. Of course he knew nothing of the grandeur that was Hollywood. He had romanced many a bikini-garbed native in each layover during his expedition that summer (in order to take the edge off the all-consuming grief of letting a certain Joey Potter slip through his fingers), but what were his exploits in comparison with Dawson Leery living his dream? Dawson had accomplished all that he had been proclaimed he would since his twelfth birthday when Mitch had given him his first video camera.

"You haven't left the studio have you, Dawson? You probably don't even remember what babes look like anymore." He instantly regretted the reference to Dawson's single-mindedness when it came to his life's passion. Reminders of their ancient camaraderie would inevitably morph into an angst-ridden rant about Joey.

"Well, they grow them considerably more scantily-clad over here than they do in Capeside." There it was. Dawson had employed his arsenal in a single statement. All conversational roads led back to Capeside these days.

"The Capeside Cuties will always be one-in-a-million though, won't they, Hombre?" Way to hammer the final nail into your coffin, Pacey!

"She's fine, Pacey," the territorial snarl, though subtle, was all-too evident.

"She," feigning innocence was a ridiculous ploy, but it was the only response he could come up with at a moment's notice.

"Joey. She's over it…completely. I've been taking care of her, and I've never seen her happier. I wish you could see her, Pace. She's practically transformed into this confidant, radiant, blissful…Joey." Discussions such as these with Dawson could give even the toughest of warriors the sensation of drowning in a vat of jellyfish. No escape, just indescribable agony.

"Does this transformed Joey…does she…does she ever mention me, Dawson?"

"Not once," his triumphant smugness radiated mockingly over their static-clogged connection. "Letting her go was the greatest gift you could have given her, Pace, the greatest gift you could have given me. You brought us back together, and now we're all right back where we belong."

"Soul mates and the Black Sheep of the Witter Clan," Pacey hissed, self-deprecating.

"No, Pace. Soul mates and the hero of the Dawson-and-Joey Saga."

Being THAT hero was hardly the sort of accomplishment he intended to shout about from a rooftop at the top of his lungs. Breathing raggedly, Pacey spat, "This hero's gotta say his fond farewell, Dawson. I should have been in the galley twenty minutes ago. The captain seems to have a modicum of faith in my cooking prowess."

"Bon Voyage, Pace," Dawson concluded glibly.

"Talk to you later, Dawson." Gingerly, Pacey stepped off the gangplank and found himself engulfed in the mass of passers-by scurrying nonchalantly along the dock.

"So what did you think, Jo," Dawson's palms sweat liberally, as he detected the nearly imperceptible hitching of her breath on the other end of the line. "But before you answer, please consider the fact that your gut-wrenchingly brutal honesty will inevitably thrust me into an inescapable abyss of immeasurable despair. After all, my entire future at USC rests on this film."

"You really know how to flatter a girl, Dawson," Joey playfully retorted.

"You absolutely loathed it, Joey. I could tell by your breathing." She recoiled at the bitter accusation. Teasing had become this gaping wound in their relationship of late. What would have been fair game between them at fifteen was now completely off limits, and she certainly did not welcome this change.

"My breathing faculties appreciate your intimate knowledge of their functions, Dawson," Joey placated lamely.

"Jo, the masterpiece you just…"

"Endured," she couldn't help but supply snidely.

"Enjoyed," he saucily amended. "It depicts the essence of every cinematic triumph that has graced the silver screen."

"Sure. Every cinematic triumph during the era of Jimmy Stewart. Dawson, this movie has no wisdom to impart pertaining to issues I can relate to. How can this director expect the audience to develop a bond with his characters if they share no common experiences? I can't believe you spent all summer in the presence of someone so obviously lacking in a vision that is applicable to our generation without pulling an Oedipus and gouging out your eyes."

"Well, I grant you, this "picture", as Mr. Brookes would have called it, is no _Sea Creature from the Deep_, but beneath its undeniably 1940s exterior lies a sublime deconstruction of the human condition."

"Sublime, Dawson? Were you sleeping with the director, or engaging in some equally Hollywood shenanigans I should be aware of? I'm fairly confident that even Jimmy Stewart would agree that a movie has no chance of being perceived as powerful if the audience is unable to put themselves in the characters' shoes. _It's a Wonderful Life_ was only significant upon its release because Frank Capra was commenting on what the fate of the United States would have been had Germany won the war. Today, _It's a Wonderful Life_ is merely an excuse to get cozy under a blanket with your loved one while consuming mass quantities of hot chocolate. To my knowledge, German soldiers won't be invading the Potter B and B anytime in the near future, at least not without a reservation."

"And what issues could Little Joey Potter possibly relate to? Your life experience has been minimal at best. There has been alcohol as a means of escape, unstable marriages, coming to terms with alternative lifestyles, broken homes, chronic depression, and melodramatic love triangles, but nothing truly Oscar-worthy."

"You've got to be kidding me! After all these years, you're still clinging to the juvenile notion that you can me like a book! For your enlightenment, you should probably know that I've had life experiences that would baffle even the one who knows me best, but it's my womanly prerogative to maintain a sensual air of mystery."

"The only chapter of the Book of Joey I haven't read begins with you sleeping with Pacey and ends with me subconsciously questioning what I mean to you if you lost your virginity to someone who claimed to be my best friend."

"When did you cease simply dipping your toes into the wading pool of insensitivity and dive in to the ocean of jerkdom?"

"Probably around the same time you shattered my soul by dumping me for a homosexual, or that time you were too busy shoving your tongue down Pacey's throat to realize that my throat is where your tongue belongs."

"I never dreamed I would hear myself say this Dawson, but you…you…you're a complete and utter prick! Why am I wasting my life fulfilling the designated "Dawson's Soul mate" duties when your primary goal has been to deflower me? What happened to that lovable film geek from down the creek who was my lifeline during the time I needed support the most? When the world came crashing down around me, he was always there. He never would have cheapened me the way you just did. He never would have reduced me to an object of sexual satisfaction. I love him more than anything. I will always love him more than anything. He's my better half. I don't give a damn how many lobotomies you have to endure; just bring that Dawson back!"

"Joey…"

"By the way, incase your head has been jammed too far up your ass for there to be any remote chance of you seeing the light, I know you directed this shitty excuse for a film, and, if there is any possibility that you're not aware of my true feelings on the subject, analyze my breathing, Dawson."

Mentally chastising herself for her reluctance to announce her presence to the brunette, Jennifer Lindley tapped Josephine Potter tentatively on the shoulder. Joey worried her lip between her teeth and gazed dispiritedly into the distance. Jen's mental chastising intensified. Why had she left the sanctuary and comfort of the humble abode she shared with Jack and Gram for another futile battle of trading barbs with the one member of the Capeside gang she couldn't be certain had ever accepted her?

"What's with the urgent urgency, Joey? I know you didn't abandon whatever kegger is currently raging in your dorm just to drag me kicking and screaming from the Crochet Olympics for a clandestine stargazing rendezvous."

"Jen, you, and I, we're friends right? I mean, in more than the when-you-have-friends-like-these-who-needs-enemies sense." Inwardly, Jen steeled herself for the onslaught of verbal abuse sure to ensue. Reminding herself that Joey had been instrumental in her efforts to reunite with her father the previous year, she offered her companion a sheepish grin.

"I'm not exactly dogmatic about the pristine state of our relationship. However, sleepovers and mud-wrestling isn't entirely out of the question."

Joey's eyes twinkled ever so slightly. "Just as long as we're not fixing each other's hair and decorating each other's nails, I'm all for any activity that involves mud."

Joey had taken the first step toward a reconciliation of sorts, and Jen was more than willing to follow suit. Perhaps years of dissention could finally be put to rest, at least, until Joey learned about her arrangement with Pacey.

"We've gotta improve our segues into the realm of "Girl Talk," Joey."

Joey met Jen's subtle challenge with a remarkably solemn air. "I kissed Dawson."

"I pronounce our segues officially improved," Jen sputtered, completely blindsided by the revelation.

"It seemed like the ideal method of saying goodbye."

"And now?" Festering beneath the wave upon wave of guilt cascading over her for essentially convincing Pacey that there remained an ember of love still flickering between him and Joey was the absurdly nauseating possibility that Dawson and Joey's era of regression had not only not ended, but had the terrifying potential of becoming Something More than a renewal and revitalization of their bond.

"The idealness has considerably faded." Joey's mouth was pursed in that enigmatic manner that could either signify a smile of bittersweet sorrow or of hope for new beginnings. Jen loathed all things enigmatic when it came to Joey Potter.

"There are other ways to say goodbye, Jo."

"In my experience, such stark logic has never applied to me and Dawson."

"So, do you regret it?"

"If I could do it all over again the circumstances would have been altered."

"Pacey, right?" If Joey regretted the kiss because of what Pacey meant to her, would always mean to her, provided Joey miraculously became self-aware enough to acknowledge that she'd already found what most people spend their entire lives looking for, then Jen could continue to repress the urge to strangle the infuriating brunette. If Joey had managed to convince herself that Pacey was a lost cause and had consequently transplanted all of her devotion to Dawson in a single kiss, heads would roll, and Jen would ensure that Joey's head would be the first.

"Actually, for the first time in years Pacey wasn't even a factor. It was just me and Dawson standing before that window, and him kissing me, silently begging me to stay. That's the magic of Dawson Leery. He's the only person I know with the power to make you fifteen again. I guess I felt that I needed to tell him everything I had never quite been able to put into words, and a kiss seemed like the perfect solution at the time."

"You know something, Joey Potter? A simple 'I love you' is a pretty powerful thing. And I'm not sure that kissing your soul mate so soon after a devastating break-up with his best friend could ever be construed as a 'solution.'"

"Dawson seemed perfectly amenable to aiding me in my period of rebounding. Besides, sometimes 'I love you' just doesn't seem like enough."

"Of course Dawson would be "perfectly amenable" in aiding you in all your rebounding needs, Joey. He's eighteen years old, so when the woman he professes to love more than anyone else in the universe, pretty much every five seconds, rewards his willingness to be there for her with an enthusiastic session of spit-swapping, all common sense about she-just-got-kicked-to-the-curb-by-my-best-friend flies out the window. Telling him that you love him would have saved you both from the inevitable heartbreak of realizing that you are just using each other for comfort when life hits a rough patch…like you always do.

"Why Jennifer Lindley, if I didn't any better I might just become a bit suspicious of your disagreement with my decision to kiss Dawson."

"Well, you and Dawson have made choices in the past that negatively affected the delicate balance of our groups' dynamic. I can't continue to be the one to sooth Dawson's tortured soul when you shatter his heart. Jack can't continue to be the one who plays your mutual devil's advocate. And Pacey can't continue to put his life on hold until you decide whether to kiss him goodbye permanently, or to kiss Dawson, and only Dawson, for the rest of your life.

"What happens between me and Dawson is not anyone else's concern. Nobody asked you to throw yourself at Dawson, while licking his wounds, which you've been doing, by the way, since the day you came to the creek. Nobody asked Jack to mend our broken hearts by playing mediator. And Pacey's life could hardly be classified as being put "on hold." He's in his element on the water. He finds tranquility and happiness there. Who am I to expect he would leave all that for…"

"Someone who continually pushed him and everyone and everything that was good in her life away. That's the funny thing about sea creatures from the deep, Joey. They have this uncanny knack for resurfacing when you least expect them to."

"Hence, in the spirit of our new-found appreciation for the time-honored tradition of "Girl Talk," I have a final question." Amidst the years of pent up frustration being released throughout the course of their heated sniping, the pair found themselves coming to an abrupt halt at the end of the pier.

Moodily, they kerplunked themselves down upon the creaky boards, finding comfort in the familiar sound, momentarily losing themselves in the onslaught of private and shared memories that occurred in a very similar setting in a small town that neither had managed to completely leave behind.

"Now that you've unjustly insulted my entire relationship with Dawson, I don't see any reason to prevent you from continuing to bastardize the rest of our evening at this point."

"Why do you hate me, Joey? Feel free not to waste your breath on bullshit platitudes that you are in fact quite fond of me, but you just aren't sure how to conduct yourself in a friendship that involves you and a fellow female. You despise me with a passion that is both exhausting and occasionally amusing, and I'd absolutely love to know the origin of said abhorrence."

"Jen, I don't think you and I have enjoyed enough pajama parties and spa treatments to be having this discussion."

"I was never the roadblock in our journey to becoming friends, Joey, so before you pummel me with any more of your patented, unprovoked bitchery allow me to remind you that when you left Dawson in the dust for Pacey, I did your job. I was the one who dried his tears and helped him laugh again. A true soul mate would have shown a smidgeon of courtesy to the one responsible for keeping their better half from embracing eternal depression. But, if that doesn't inspire you to show me a modicum of civility then maybe the fact that I've heard from a certain erstwhile paramour of yours will. Goodnight, Joey."

In a flurry of blond hair and a vicious gnashing of teeth, Jen was gone, leaving Joey to process the significance of her parting shot. Unless she had been having a romantic relationship without her knowledge, "erstwhile paramour" could only mean one thing… Jen hadn't simply been worming her way into the part of Dawson's heart reserved for her, Pacey had confided in Jen first.

**Author's Note**: Arg! The plot actually becomes evident next chapter, I swear. Although, maybe if I considered not attempting to be creative at ungodly hours of the morning, the plot would have made an appearance this time. However, what's not to love about a bit of angst? First off, I'd like to apologize for a tragic lack of Grams and Jack this time around. Be forewarned, there will be Jack and Grams a'plenty in the next installment, and they both might actually be given plots. No offense Fifth Season writers (snerk), but Jack does have a contribution to make to the story, other than being a frat-loving ass. And, he will not be portrayed here as the straightest gay guy ever (seriously, I love Kerr, but a burst of flamboyance, every now and then, never killed anybody). Plus, Grams showing up out of the blue with an African-American boyfriend and no explanation of any kind. I'm all for interracial relationships, but um…familiarize yourself with previous seasons before you turn characters inside out and upside down. Secondly, I'm having massive writer's block when it comes to Charlie. I'm not sure if I'm just rejecting CMM because he has no point other than something for Joey to do while Dawson and Jen are being skanky together and Pacey and Audrey are, well…this hurts me to think about, so I'm just not going there. If no one has any ideas, I'll just let him be the musical entertainment during party episodes (what's DC without the party scenes where all the shit hits the fan). Thirdly, Manwhore Pacey's parade of women will be included, so Melissa and Karen fans (why I ask you) can anticipate something to cheer about. Pervy Prof Wilder will also have some scenes with Joey. Her interaction with him has yet to be determined. Oliver and some other film geeks from that fictional film school in Boston will be gracing us with their presence, so there will be movie references (although nothing pretentious because I don't have Dawson's "knowledge" of cinema). Also, there will be a few sub-characters of my own creation because why rewrite a teen soap if you can't have fun with it? Finally, I'm mixing a bit of Season Six with Season Five by bringing Eddie into the mix a year early because I like Joey and Eddie as friends. She finally had someone to discuss books with, instead of subjecting herself to millenniums of Dawson yammering about some French noir crap that makes me want to shove French fries up his nose.


End file.
